


Wishful Dreams

by orphan_account



Series: fights with super abilities [5]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Flashback, Gen, alex has a bad past, explains a little bit of future plot, im sorry, kinda sad, superhero au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 18:08:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10496628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A blast to the past is given to us.





	

**Author's Note:**

> bad grammar, sorry. bad spelling, sorry. enjoy!

Angelica smiled happily over her homework at Alexander, who grinned back at her, flicking a grape in her general area.

“It's a wonder you're even alive, Alexander.” Angelica teased the seventeen year old, who rolled his eyes, returning back to the report that wasn't due until another few weeks. Picking up the delightful fruit, Angelica popped the grape into her mouth, scribbling down the answer to the math problem she was working on.

“Mon petit lion, comment allez-vous?” Laf questioned, entering the living room where the duo was currently sprawled at. Angelica was taking up the couch, her tall figure stretching all the way across the three cushions, and she was laying on her stomach. Alex was on the chair next to the couch, feet over the side of the arm-rest and back leaning against the other rest.

“I'm fine, Laf.” Alex sighed out, whole chest moving with the motion. Laf, with no warning, sat right on top of Angelica's thighs, giving no shits that the girl was already sitting.

“Um, 'fraid not, Lion. I heard you laid into Mr. Adams today.” Laf explained, and Angelica's head perked up, twisting at an awkward angle to see how Alex reacted. She wasn't disappointed; Alexander's eyes widened and darkened a shade, the mechanical pencil in his hand cracked, his nostrils flared in anger, and his lips thinned into a razor-sharp smile.

“Really? He was in a bad mood ninth period, but Adams is always in a bad mood by the end of the day.” The girl pressed, twisting her torso so her neck/head didn't have to strain to see her friend. Laf, helpfully, got up to allow her to sit up, and sat back down in the empty space.

“He had no right to think what he thought.” Alex admitted, and Laf patted his friend's hand, gently emptying the pencil from his hand.

“We have discussed this, Lex.” Angelica began, setting her math homework to the side, “and the thing is, people are going to think what they think. It's the one bad thing about having a gift—“ She tried, and almost instantly knew that was the wrong thing to say.

“It's not a gift. It will _never_ be a gift! For the last _fucking_ time Angelica, I've been cursed!” She raised an eyebrow at Lafayette, who shrugged helplessly, mouthing that it had been a bad day. Alex wasn't done— _honestly_ , Angelica thought, _does the boy even know what it means to stop?—_ and he left the chair to pace angrily around the living room.

“How, Alexander? Do you not understand what you have been given? The ability to have _complete control_ over another person?” She shot back, and Alex gave her a glare. She got up as well, and Laf left the room, presumably to give them space. Their arguments were explosive, especially when Alex was in an agitated mood.

“They can have it back. Whoever gave it to me, whoever thought it a blessing to give this curse to me, can have it back! Angelica, if anyone ever found out we will be shipped over to government testing—“ She laughed, rubbing her temples as she watched Alex pace a hole through the carpet. He slowed down in the speed of his steps, waiting for her to throw back his words.

“You need to lay _off_ of the science fiction Alexander. One, that would never happen because do you know how many people would rip the government apart? It's  _immoral_ , and not to mention, they can't haul off a group of teenagers without the news catching wind, the media would become a shit-storm, our parents could get the Supreme Court involved, it would be more destructive to _them_ than it would be to _us_.” She knew that was Alexander's first defensive wall.

He had a “wall-system” that they had to work through, to get to the main root of his issues, and they all gotten used to it since they were fifteen. The second wall was toxic words that hurt like hell, even if he isn't completely calm when he says them. The third was silence, that one usually had to talk over, until he would crack. It's not fun for either party involved, but Alexander worked like that.

“Oh, like you would know, Angelica. Being the _perfect_ Senator's daughter, being the _perfect_ daughter, the _perfect_ sister, the best friend and student and girlfriend, you must have had such a hard life. Someone ought to remind you that life isn't like that for anyone else.

“Like you ever felt hunger or pain or read your older brother's mind when he mused about killing you so there would be more food for him and your half-dead mother. Like _you_ understand the grief of listening to a mind of someone who only wants your mother's non-existent money as he tried to tell her that I was schizophrenic and tried to sell us so much medication _that I didn't need_. Like you have ever lived through a hurricane. No, you're perfect, and beautiful, and happy, and care-free and I _hate_ it.” Angelica raised an eyebrow, looking down at her cuticles. _Manicure with Theo is tomorrow, anyway_ , she mused, waiting for Alex to stop. He finally did, thankfully.

“Alex, you know that is wrong. We both know what you've lived through, and we both know what I have to live through, and honestly, I'm happy to say that we are both here. We are both alive, we are both breathing easily, and the only thing to worry about it someone finding out about our _abilities_.” She stressed the last word, hoping it would soothe the small teen, but all it did was enrage him even more.

“I'm so _tired_ , Angie. Adams, being a prick, made a comment about anti-immigration, and, obviously, since I can't keep my mouth shut, I mentioned the fact that I was an immigrant, and “'...if you have an issue, sir, you can obviously say it to my face.'” And then he told me to shut up and sit down, and in his mind, remarked that I was a Creole bastard—granted, it's _technically true—_ and if all immigrants were like me, we would do better to lock our borders now before anymore 'filth' can filter in and _fuck him_.” Avoidance wasn't usually a tactic her friend used, both it wasn't rare for him to try to and ignore the issue. He slowed down, face relaxing from the tense posture it had

“Alex, why is your ability a curse?” She asked flatly, sitting down next to Aaron— _how did I not notice we had a crowd_ , she wondered—and accepting the hand Theo offered her, squeezing in silent thanks. Looking around the living room, she noticed that Laf had gotten the rest of their group—Thomas was sitting by Hercules on the loveseat, Theo and Aaron were on the couch.

“Because it ruined any chance of happiness with my m-mother. Angie, I don't want to...“ The pacing slowed to a stop, and he looked like he was _so close_ to saying what really was bothering him.

“Alexander, it's time we know. We worry about you. This isn't you, this isn't Alex. You know about my parents, you know about Laf's, and Angie's, and Aaron's, you know about Thomas' life.” Theodosia finally whispered, softly, calming Alexander even more than he already was. It was a gift of Theo's, the ability to calm and soothe with just a glance, or a word.

“My mother was married to a man who beat her.” Alexander began, and when he got no responses, he relaxed into the story.

“My mother was beautiful and smart and witty and everything I aspire to be. My “step-father,” he was a bad person. He was cheating, and spent all of my mother's money on gambling and eventually they were dirt poor. He was thrown in jail for some time, and my mother tried to divorce him. The “fine-print” in their marriage contract said she couldn't divorce him, so, she was stuck. She fled to Nevis. Where I was born. She met my dad, James—he was everything good except the fact that he was flighty. He never could stay down, he was restless and fidgety. He loved my mother, and for eight years he managed to stay, and though we were poor, the four of us—my mother, my father, my brother, and myself—we were happy.

“Yeah. That lasted not for very long. He left when I was about eight or nine. James was eleven. My “step-father” divorced my mother, and we thought that was the end of that. She worked three jobs, and James helped the neighbors.

“I worked, to the best of my ability. I wrote. I wrote like there was fire underneath me. I wrote poems about God for the church competitions, I won money, nothing over five hundred, but it helped. James, he thought I was being selfish, for spending all that money on paper and pens. James eventually ran away, probably when I was eleven. Mom and I got really sick a few months after that. She died holding me. I was listening to her thoughts w-when they just...stopped. She was thinking _Alex baby, I..._ and it stopped. I thought she fell asleep. I was screaming...the neighbors called.” The six other teens watched him, knowing better than to reach out to him and try to help, so instead they watched him, watched the tear that rolled down his face, before he could resume.

“I was an orphan. I was in the system for a year and a half before they found my cousin. I was with one of my cousins when he popped a bullet through his head. I was almost fourteen. I was put back into the system. The home I was in...the hurricane came. _God save us_ , I could hear one seven year old thinking when she drowned. I was the only survivor in the fifty-something home. I was the oldest, I had the attic. The water reached me, but it wasn't enough to drown me. I wrote a letter to my father, begging him to listen to me, to help me _lord just help me_ , and the newspaper published it for me.

“Total strangers...they raised enough money to send me to America, where then officials placed me in the system. It was a month before I landed where I am today.

“My gift isn't a gift because at the moment when I was born, the one in a trillion chance, I got an ability. All that luck...I would trade it over and over again for my mother back, for anything that went wrong to go good. I don't belong here.” Alex laughed, shaking his head, as he went to leave the room. Thomas sprung into action, tackling the much smaller teen in a hug. They both fell to the floor, with Alex laughing as Thomas—jokingly—waxed poetic statements about how _handsome_ and _brave_ his _Lex_ was.

“Group hug!” Theo cheered, joining the boys on the floor. Eventually just tackling each other, the seven of them were laughing and just being... _kids_.

* * *

 

“I need us back.” The photo was placed back on the wall, before the figure reached out to stroke the oak frame. “And I know just the person to do that.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I was gonna split this apart but i didn't. Um...i know plot line is really confusing, just read the tags, and try not to be confused. I guess...thank you for the comments & kudos! I'll see you in the next installment (which will be like in five minutes tbh.)


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